Boscobel: or, the royal oak

"Oddsfish! 'tis an excellent plan!" cried Charles, laughing heartily. "No wit like a woman's wit, and Dame Gives is as sharp-witted as any of her sex."

Careless then proceeded to inform the king that he had left Stratford-on-Avon before sunrise, so that as far as he could judge they must be considerably in advance of the troopers.

"I give your majesty half an hour here – not longer," said Careless.

"Half an hour will suffice," said the king. "But let us in at once. I feel outrageously hungry."

Entering the house, they called out lustily for something to eat, whereupon a cold meat pie and the remains of a ham were set before them. On these they set to work, and in less time than had been allowed by Careless had entirely demolished the pie and emptied a jug of ale. They had just finished their repast when the hostess informed them that the ladies were ready to start, whereupon they proceeded to the stable and changed horses, as agreed upon.

Meanwhile, Dame Gives had fully explained matters to Jane, who quite approved of the plan. On coming forth she made no remark, but unhesitatingly took her seat behind the king, who was now mounted on the horse previously ridden by Careless. Dame Gives was equally expeditious in her movements, and the two grooms setting off at once, the change of steeds was unnoticed by the host and hostess.

Before descending the hill Careless surveyed the country round, but could descry nothing of the pursuers.

Leaving the old mansion of Maugersbury on the left, they entered a pleasant valley, watered by a clear trout-stream, and proceeded along the old Roman Foss Way. After crossing Stow Bridge, they passed a charming little village through the midst of which ran the trout-stream before mentioned, and shaped their course towards Bourton-on-the-Water.

Nothing could be pleasanter than this part of the ride, and enlivened by the cheerful companionship of Careless and Dame Gives, Charles for a time gave vent to his natural gaiety, and seemed quite to forget that the enemy was on his track.

Though apparently quite as unconcerned as his royal master, Careless kept a sharp look-out. Nothing, however, had occurred to cause them alarm. After passing through the pretty town of Bourton-on-the-Water, the houses of which are built on either side of the river Windrush, they returned to the Foss Way, which they had temporarily quitted.

CHAPTER II.

HOW CHARLES TOOK SHELTER DURING A STORM IN RATS ABBEY BARN; AND HOW HE DELIVERED CARELESS AND DAME GIVES FROM THE TROOPERS

Once more they were in the midst of bleak and barren wolds, and were pressing on towards North leach, when they perceived a small detachment of cavalry coming along from that town.

As they were in sight of the enemy, to quit the road or turn back, would only be to invite pursuit, so they went boldly on, hoping they might not be stopped.

The officer in command of the troop ordered them to halt, and interrogated them very sharply. With Jane's pass he was satisfied, and after a brief parley permitted her and her groom to proceed on their way. Reluctant to abandon his friends, Charles rode slowly on, but he soon found it necessary to accelerate his pace. The two troopers, Ezra and Madmannah, who were on his track, had now appeared in sight, and judging that nothing but instant flight could save him, he quitted the Foss Way, and rode off into the wolds.

Meantime, the officer in command of the detachment had come to the determination of arresting Dame Gives and her supposed servant, and he was about to send a guard with them to Northleach, when the two troopers came up. At once recognising the horse, they felt sure the disguised groom must be the king, and fearful of losing their prize they made no remark, but immediately offered to take charge of the prisoners and conduct them to Northleach. Greatly to the satisfaction of the cunning troopers, their proposal was accepted.

Committing the prisoners to their charge, the officer rode off with his men, while the two troopers, secretly exulting in their good fortune, and feeling now secure of their prize, placed the supposed royal captive between them, resolved to take him to Bristol, and there deliver him up to the commander of the garrison, and claim the rich reward.

Meanwhile Charles, finding he was not pursued, made his way across the wolds in the direction of Northleach, and passing on the right of that town, which was then an important mart for cloth and wool, returned to the Foss Way. Unable to ascertain what had become of Careless and Dame Gives, the king was greatly concerned that he could render them no assistance.

The morning, as we have already intimated, had been extremely fine, but within the last hour a change had taken place, and the blackness of the heavens portending a heavy thunder-storm, Charles looked about anxiously for a place of shelter.

They were again on the Foss Way, with nothing but the bare wolds spread out around them, like the billows of a tempestuous sea.

Jane pointed out a solitary barn about a quarter of a mile off on the left, and as soon as he could descend from the elevated road which he was tracking, Charles rode quickly in that direction.

Just as they reached the barn the storm came on with great violence. The flashes of lightning were almost incessant, the peals of thunder awfully loud, and the rain came down in torrents.

It was now so dark that except for the lightning they could not see many yards before them, and as Charles rode into the barn through the open door, he called out to ascertain whether anyone was within, but no answer being returned he dismounted, and after assisting Jane to alight, led his horse to a stall at the further end of the barn, and fastened him up. This done, he returned to Jane.

Almost deafened by the peals of thunder, they were looking out through the open door upon the wolds, and watching the progress of the storm, when a brighter flash than any that had gone before revealed a startling spectacle.

"Gracious heavens!" ejaculated Charles, "either my eyes deceived me, or I saw Careless and Dame Gives guarded by a couple of troopers."

"You were not deceived, sire," replied Jane. "I saw them distinctly. Their captors are evidently coming to seek shelter here."

As she spoke, another brilliant flash revealed the party.

"You are right, they are about to take shelter in this barn," said Charles. "The rogues must not find us. It shall go hard if I do not contrive to liberate the prisoners."

In another minute the party arrived at the door of the barn. Ezra rode in first, and was followed by the captives, while Madmannah brought up the rear, and posted himself at the entrance to prevent any attempt at escape. However, he did not remain there long, but jumped from his horse, declaring that the lightning had well-nigh blinded him.

Meanwhile the others had dismounted, but Ezra kept strict guard over the prisoners.

"If thy life is of value to thee thou wilt keep quiet," he said to Careless.

"Are we alone here?" cried Madmannah in a loud voice. "What ho! is there any one in the barn?"

"Ay," replied a voice that sounded like that of a countryman, "I be here, Sam Cubberly, of Scrubditch Farm. Who may you be, and what are you doing in Rats Abbey Barn?"

Struck by the oddity of the response, Careless began to think that a friend was at hand.

"Methinks thou art mocking us, Sam Cubberly," cried Ezra. "Come forth, and show thyself, or I will prick thee with my pike."

A derisive laugh was the only response to this threat, and his choler being roused, he marched towards the back of the barn in search of the audacious rustic. But he had not got far, when an athletic young man suddenly sprang upon him, seized him by the throat, and disarmed him.

Hearing the disturbance, and at once comprehending what was taking place, Careless made an instant attack on Madmannah, and not only succeeded in depriving him of his weapons but forced him to the ground. Material assistance was given by Dame Gives, who prevented the trooper from using his carabine, and now held it at his head.

"Shall I shoot him?" she asked, in a tone that showed she was in earnest.

"Ay, shoot him through the head if he stirs," rejoined Careless.

He then flew to the spot where the king was engaged with Ezra, and between them they dragged the trooper back to his comrade.

"Our safety demands that both these villains be instantly despatched," said Careless. "They have justly forfeited their lives."

"Truly, they deserve death, yet I am inclined to spare them," said Charles. "Hark ye, rogues," he continued; "will you swear to desist from this pursuit if your lives be given you?"

Both readily responded in the affirmative.

"Trust them not," said Careless; "they have broken half a dozen oaths already."

"But we will not break this," said Ezra. "We will hold our peace as to all that we have seen and heard, and go back to Colonel James."

By this time the fury of the storm had abated. The thunder had rolled off to a distance, and though the lightning still flashed, the rain had entirely ceased.

"The storm has cleared off," observed Jane Lane, in a low tone to the king. "There is nothing to prevent our departure."

"Then we will not remain here a moment longer," he rejoined. "We must deprive these rascals of the means of following us," he added to Careless; "we will take their horses."

"Take their lives as well as their horses. You are dealing far too leniently with them," said Careless.

Fancying all was over with them, the two wretches besought mercy in piteous terms.

"Stand back, then," cried Charles, fiercely; "and do not stir till we are gone, or you will rush upon your death."

The troopers moved back as enjoined, but Careless did not like their looks, and called out to them:

"Further back, or we will shoot you!"

The order was quickly obeyed.

At a sign from Charles, Jane Lane and Dame Gives then quitted the barn, and were immediately followed by the king and Careless, each leading a couple of horses.

As soon as the party had mounted, they returned to the old Roman road, crossed the Foss Bridge over the Coin, and then proceeding for a couple of miles further, turned the troopers' horses loose on Barnsley Wold.

CHAPTER III.

WHAT PASSED IN THE BARBER'S SHOP AT CIRENCESTER

The storm having now entirely passed away, the sun came forth again. Though the district through which they were travelling was exceedingly wild, it was solitary, and that gave it a special charm in the eyes of the fugitive monarch and his attendants. Occasionally a large flock of sheep could be seen among the wolds, with a shepherd tending them, but nothing more formidable.

As they approached Cirencester, which was to be the term of their day's journey, the aspect of the country improved, and they passed two or three large mansions surrounded by parks.

Far more important, and infinitely more picturesque in appearance, was this ancient town in the middle of the seventeenth century, than at the present time. The castle, celebrated for many historical events, had been demolished, but the walls surrounding the town were still standing, and the streets were full of old timber houses, most of which, we regret to say, have since disappeared. Even the old inn, where Charles and his companions rested for the night, has vanished. Notwithstanding these changes, which some may deem improvements, though we cannot regard them in that light, Cirencester (vulgo, Ciceter) is a quiet, clean-looking country town, possessing a half-antique, half-modern air, and boasts the finest parochial church, with the most elaborately ornamented porch, in Gloucestershire. Let us mention that the interior of this stately fabric has been admirably restored of late years.

Passing through the gate without hindrance of any kind, our travellers rode along a narrow street to the market-place. The king was struck by the dull and deserted appearance of the town, but its quietude pleased him.

On reaching the market-place, he halted for a moment to gaze at the richly-decorated church porch we have just mentioned. Not far from the church stood the Chequers – the inn at which they intended to put up – and proceeding thither, the party alighted, and were warmly welcomed by the hostess, Dame Meynell, who was delighted to see Jane, and conducted her and Dame Gives into the house, where every attention was shown them.

After partaking of a light repast they retired to rest. Charles and Careless were of course treated according to their supposed condition, but no guest, whatever might be his degree, fared badly at the Chequers, and they were supplied with some marrow-puddings and fried eels and a pottle of excellent sack. Not caring to sit among the other guests, they went out, after supper, to take a stroll through the town.

Night having now come on, they could not see much, so after rambling about for half an hour they returned to the market-place, and entered a barber's shop which Charles had noticed near the inn.

Not expecting any more customers at that hour, the barber, a sharp-looking middle-aged man, was about to shut up his shop, but he deferred his purpose when the two grooms came in, and one of them – it was the king – seated himself in the chair ordinarily assigned to customers, and desired to be shaved.

"'Tis getting late," observed the barber; "cannot you come in the morning?"

"No," replied Charles, "my young mistress starts early. I must be shaved now."

Trimming a lamp that hung overhead, the barber made all necessary preparations for the task.

While he was thus occupied, Careless, who was seated on a bench, observed the man look inquisitively at his customer, and began to regret that they had entered the shop.

"You have been accustomed to wear moustaches and a pointed beard, I perceive, friend," remarked the barber, as he covered the king's cheeks and chin with lather; "and I am of opinion that the fashion must have suited you." And as Charles made no reply, he went on: "Yours is a face that requires a beard – a pointed beard, I mean, such as the Cavaliers wear – "

"But Will Jones is not a Cavalier any more than I am," interrupted Careless.

"'Tis not an ill compliment, methinks, to say that both of you – despite your attire – might pass for Cavaliers," said the barber.

"We do not desire to be taken for other than we are – simple grooms," said Careless. "Prithee, hold thy peace, unless thou canst talk more to the purpose, and proceed with thy task."

"Nay, I meant no offence," said the barber. "I only wish you to understand that you need make no mystery with me. I am a true man, and not a Roundhead."

He then plied his razor so expeditiously that in a trice he had finished shaving the king.

As he handed Charles a napkin and ewer, he said, in a tone of profound respect:

"I ought to know that face."

"Where canst thou have seen me, master?" rejoined the king. "I have never been in thy shop before."

"'Tis not in Ciceter that I have seen you," said the barber, still in the same profoundly respectful tone; "but in a far different spot, and under far different circumstances. Little did I think that I should be thus honoured."

"No great honour in shaving a groom," cried Charles.

The barber shook his head.

"No groom has entered my shop this night," he said, "and no groom will leave it. Whatever opinion may be formed of me, let it be understood that I am no traitor."

"Nay, thou art an honest fellow, I am sure of that," observed Charles.

"I am a loyal subject of the king," said the barber, "and were his majesty to come hither I would aid him to the best of my power."

"Were thy suspicions correct, friend," said Charles, "thou must feel that I could not satisfy them. Think what thou wilt, but keep silence."

He was about to place a pistole on the table, but the poor man looked so pained that he stretched out his hand to him. The barber sprang forward, and pressed the king's hand to his lips.

At a very early hour next morning all the party quitted Cirencester, and again tracked the old Roman road across the plain.

They had a long day's journey before them, Bristol being thirty-one miles distant from Cirencester, while Abbots Leigh was four miles beyond Bristol. The morning was delightfully fresh, and the woody district they were traversing offered charming views.

After awhile they left the Roman way, and pursued a road at the foot of a range of low hills, and in less than two hours arrived at Tetbury, where they halted. As they had been unable to breakfast at Cirencester, owing to the early hour at which they started, they were now very glad to repair the omission. Jane and Dame Gives, of course, breakfasted in private, but the two grooms, after seeing to the horses, repaired to the kitchen, where they astonished the host by their prowess as trencher-men.

After an hour's halt at Tetbury the party set forth again. Passing High Grove and Doughton, and then riding on to Westonbirt Bottom, they skirted Silk Wood, and continued their course till they reached Didmarton.

During this part of the journey they had met with no interruption. Indeed, there seemed no troopers on the road. On quitting Didmarton they passed Badminton Park, in which, at a subsequent period, the magnificent mansion belonging to the Duke of Beaufort has been erected, and rode on through the woods and past the fine old manor-house of Little Sodbury to Chipping-Sodbury, where they again halted to refresh themselves and rest their steeds.

Their road now led them past Yate, and through Wapley Bushes to Westerleigh. Thence they proceeded by Hanborow and Stapleton, and crossing an old stone bridge over the river Frome, rode on to Bristol.

CHAPTER IV.

BRISTOL IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

Surrounded by walls, above which rose its picturesque timber habitations and numerous fine churches, Bristol, at the period of our history, presented a very striking appearance. So closely packed together were the houses, that viewed from the neighbouring heights they seemed to form a solid mass, and indeed the majority of the streets were so narrow that they were little better than lanes. Through the midst of the city ran the Avon, the river being crossed by an ancient stone bridge, with houses on either side like old London Bridge. On the north-west the city was bounded by the river Frome, and it was here that the chief quay had been formed, ships of very large burden being able to come up the Avon with the tide. On the east the city was protected by the castle, a very large pile, surrounded by a broad, deep moat, and approached by a drawbridge. Near the castle was a strong fort of modern construction, in which there was a large garrison. Four years later both castle and fort were demolished by the Parliament. On the west the fortifications were in tolerably good repair. But between the western walls and the Avon there was a wide marsh, which extended to the left bank of the Frome, near its junction with the larger river. In recent times, this marshy ground has been converted into large docks and basins, and surrounded by warehouses. The south side of the city was likewise protected by strong walls, extending to either bank of the Avon, which here made a wide curve. Both St. Augustine's and St. Mary Redcliffe, justly esteemed the most beautiful church in the kingdom, were outside the walls. From its elevated position, St. Augustine's, as the cathedral was then called, formed a conspicuous object from the north and west. The city was approached by four gates: on the north by Frome-gate, and on the south by Temple-gate, New-gate, and Redcliffe-gate, the latter leading to the grand old fane before mentioned. What with its many beautiful churches, incomparable St. Mary Redcliffe, the castle, the old walls, the ancient houses, and the two rivers, Bristol, in the olden time, was a most striking and picturesque city, and its inhabitants were justly proud of it.

During the Civil Wars, Bristol had played a conspicuous part, and was justly accounted the chief Royalist stronghold in the West, and though it was frequently in the hands of the Parliamentarians, it still preserved a character for loyalty. Charles was well acquainted with the city, having been taken there by his royal father in August, 1643, when it capitulated to Prince Rupert, who had besieged it with twenty thousand men. Though but a boy at the time, Charles had been greatly impressed by the loyalty of the men of Bristol, and entertaining the belief that a large portion of them must still be faithful to his cause, though they did not dare to manifest their zeal, he approached the city without much misgiving.

Our travellers were stopped and questioned by the guard stationed at Frome-gate, but Jane Lane's pass sufficed, and they were soon mounting a steep narrow street bordered by tall timber houses, with overhanging stories, leading to the centre of the city.

It had been arranged that the party should separate at Bristol. Dame Gives had some relatives dwelling in Wine-street, with whom she could take up her abode, while Careless meant to fix his quarters at the Lamb Inn in West-street till he should receive a summons from the king. Charles and his fair companion did not intend to remain at Bristol, but to proceed at once to Abbots Leigh, which, as already mentioned, was distant about four miles from the city.

In accordance with this plan they now separated, and Careless, having consigned Dame Gives to her friends, proceeded to the Lamb Inn.

Having crossed the old bridge, and tracked the long, narrow street to which it led, Charles and his fair companion passed out at Redcliffe-gate, and after halting for a short time to gaze at the superb old church, shaped their course along the left bank of the Avon.

How changed is now the scene! Where a vast floating harbour has been formed, constantly filled with ships from all parts of the world, and surrounded by busy wharves and enormous warehouses, only the river flowed through its deep channel, with very few buildings near it.

After a long ascent, the travellers reached the uplands on the left bank of the Avon – then, as now, covered with magnificent timber. Half an hour's ride through these romantic woods brought them to Abbots Leigh.

The fine old family mansion of the Nortons no longer exists, having been pulled down in 1814, in order to make way for a yet more stately structure, that now forms the residence of Sir William Miles, and is celebrated for its magnificent gallery of pictures. Abbots Leigh was approached by an avenue of trees, terminated by an antique gate-tower. Passing through the wide archway of this tower, the king and his fair companion came in front of the old mansion, which, with its numerous gables and large mullioned windows, presented a very imposing appearance.

Situated on an elevated plateau, and facing the west, Abbots Leigh commanded a most extensive and varied prospect, embracing Durdham Downs on the further side of the Avon, a vast tract of well-wooded country, the broad estuary of the Severn, and the Welsh hills beyond it.

Jane's arrival having been announced by a bell rung at the gate by the porter, Mr. Norton, who was playing at bowls with his chaplain, Doctor Gorges, on the smooth lawn in front of the mansion, hastened to meet her, and, after greeting her very cordially, assisted her to alight.

The lord of Abbots Leigh was a tall, distinguished-looking personage, attired in black velvet. His wife, who presently made her appearance, was somewhat younger, and extremely handsome.

A most affectionate meeting took place between Jane and Mrs. Norton, who embraced her young relative very tenderly, and expressed great delight at seeing her.

"I rejoice that you have got here safely," she said. "We hear of so many disagreeable occurrences, that I can assure you we have felt quite uneasy about you. Your looks don't betray fatigue, but I dare say you are greatly tired by your long journey."

"No, indeed, I am not," replied Jane. "I think I could ride thirty or forty miles a day for a month, and not feel the worse for it. But I have been troubled about my poor groom, Will Jones, who is very weak from the effects of a quartan ague."

"Give yourself no further concern about him, Jane," said Mrs. Norton. Then calling to the butler, who was standing near, she added, "Pope, this young man, Will Jones, is suffering from ague. Bid Margaret Rider prepare for him an infusion of aromatic herbs."